


Fuck You, Thunder!

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [84]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Weather, Fear, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fill, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Comment Fic for Free for All prompt: <i>any, any m/m, thunderstorms.</i></p>
<p>In which John's new neighbor is annoying, rude, and terrified of thunderstorms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuck You, Thunder!

John was ensconced in his recliner, fleece blanket draped over his legs and a steaming mug of hot cocoa on the end table beside him. Outside the storm was really picking up steam, thunder rolling ever closer as it chased the lightning down the valley. It was all background noise as he lost himself in the pages of a Lee Child novel; Jack Reacher was kicking ass and taking names, a one-man A-Team helping random strangers in need. Perfect rainy day reading material.

The bad weather didn’t bother him, aside from a bit of an ache in his left knee. Old war wound, he was fond of saying, but really it was from a football play gone wrong. Changes in the weather always affected it, which made him feel like an old man sometimes. Pretty soon he’d be telling strangers all of his physical ailments and getting bifocals. It was a depressing thought.

There was a particularly loud crack of thunder, followed by some frantic pounding on his front door. John got up as quickly as possible, wincing a bit at the pain in his knee. When he opened the front door he got a face full of rain and his new neighbor, who looked incredibly agitated.

“Well, don’t just stand there! I’m drowning out here!” The guy pushed past John and stood dripping in the very tiny entryway of his apartment. “Do you always get such bad storms here?”

“Make yourself at home,” John said with a frown. He had to push against the wind to get the door closed.

“Thanks.” The guy – John was pretty sure his name was Randy or Roddy or something like that – unzipped his raincoat and let it drop to the floor with a wet splat. No manners as well as an inability to detect sarcasm. Wonderful.

“Was there something you wanted?”

“I’m your new neighbor. Rodney McKay? In 2G?” He rubbed his hand on his shirt to get the water off and then held it out for John to shake. “Paul, right?”

“Not even close.” John gave Rodney a long look and then shook his hand. “John Sheppard.”

“Of course you are. I don’t suppose you have any coffee.”

John couldn’t believe the gall of this guy, busting into his apartment and inviting himself to stay. He moved to block the doorway that led into the rest of his living space. He refused to be invaded.

“Actually, I was in the middle of –”

There was a bright flash of lightning, and a thunder crack so loud it rattled the windows, and it became immediately apparent why Rodney McKay in 2G was standing in John’s entryway. He’d drawn his shoulders up and ducked his head, crossed his arms tightly over his chest and squinched his eyes shut, as tense as a man in front of a firing squad.

John’s new neighbor was terrified.

That put a different spin on things. His first reaction was amusement that a grown man would be so afraid of a storm, but then he reminded himself that there could be a number of reasons for Rodney’s fear. Hell, John had known guys who suffered from PTSD that would lose their shit in a thunder storm because in their head they were hearing mortar rounds.

He felt bad, he really did, but he wasn’t sure that meant he needed to let Rodney into his home and disrupt what was going to be a nice, quiet evening with his book and his cocoa. Although to be honest, most nights were pretty quiet. John didn’t have much of a social life these days.

“Look, Rodney, I –”

But Rodney had taken advantage of John’s momentary distraction to move into the living room and sit on the loveseat. He’d also co-opted John’s hot cocoa, his hands wrapped around the mug.

John was speechless. He just stood there and stared at the man who had invaded his home, and so he saw Rodney’s lips moving after the next flash of lightning. Counting until the thunder. It was something children did, which was kind of endearing but no way excused the guy from imposing on John.

“That’s mine.” He snatched the cocoa out of Rodney’s hands, and resettled himself in his chair. “Kitchen is that way if you want your own.” 

John jerked a thumb in the general direction of the kitchen, ignoring Rodney’s open-mouthed expression of incredulity. The guy was too scared to send back out into the storm, but John wasn’t about to wait on him either.

“Rude,” Rodney grumbled. But he got up and went into the kitchen, where John could hear him opening and closing cabinet doors and muttering to himself.

The next crack of thunder was accompanied by a yelp, but Rodney stayed in the kitchen even though John half expected him to come running. He wondered why his new neighbor was so scared. John didn’t get a military vibe off him, but maybe he’d been near an explosion, or involved in some other traumatic experience that involved loud noises. Speculating was foolish, anyway, because John wasn’t a therapist or a psychologist or anything, so it wasn’t like he could help Rodney.

Finally, the teapot whistled, and less than a minute later Rodney returned with his cup of cocoa. He sat back down on the loveseat, and shot John an apologetic look.

“I’m really sorry, Paul.”

“John.”

“What? Oh. Right. Sorry. I know I’m being annoying, but I almost got hit by lightning last year.” As if on cue, lightning flashed and Rodney’s shoulders came up. “Do you have any idea what that can do to a person’s brain? Assuming it doesn’t kill them outright.”

John shook his head. “Can’t say I do.”

“Well, it’s like nature’s electroshock therapy. It fries the brain. Memory loss, chronic migraines…those are the least that can happen.” Rodney tapped the side of his head for emphasis. “I’m a genius, and I’m not just saying that. It’s a fact. And the idea of losing my intelligence to a whim of nature is…well, it’s terrifying.”

John appreciated the apology. He could certainly understand why Rodney was so afraid. And really, what would it hurt to let the guy stay until the storm blew over? He seemed harmless enough.

“You play video games?” he asked.

“Sometimes.”

“I’ve got _Rayman Legends_. You want to play?”

Rodney grinned, his expression turning calculating. “I could give it a try,” he said. 

They passed the next several hours gaming together, and if Rodney thought he could hustle John he was sorely mistaken; he’d put in a ridiculous amount of hours playing the thing. And maybe it wasn’t the way John had imagined his evening going, but he couldn’t deny that he was having fun. He’d also noticed that Rodney was a pretty attractive guy when he wasn’t freaking out about the weather.

By the time the storm ended, Rodney and John were well on their way to becoming friends. And Rodney had stopped calling him Paul.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Title swiped from the movie _Ted_ and the thunder buddies song.


End file.
